


got me under your spell (girl you got the music in you)

by moxiemorton



Series: echoes slip in slowly (edges of you keep me holy) [6]
Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 11:27:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18151262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moxiemorton/pseuds/moxiemorton
Summary: Bemily Week Day 6 - Harry PotterBeca's been to quite a few weddings throughout her life, a memorable one being her dad's second marriage to the step-monster, but she's never been to a...theme wedding? That's a thing? Whatever, Emily's excited to go, and it's not like she'd keep her from getting what she wants...right?alternative summary*John Mulaney voice* that's my WIFE





	got me under your spell (girl you got the music in you)

**Author's Note:**

> based off an anon prompt from tumblr requesting a songfic off of Jamie Lawson's Can't See Straight, which I was originally gonna use for a Vday fic but then had an epiphany where I could twist the Harry Potter theme into THIS so that's where the song fell in
> 
> also if you see scenes/conversations that are extremely similar to angie's (emilyjunk) massive day 3/5/6 fic, that's just because we're the same person and channel the same exact bemily vibe or something, but I swear on my LIFE I didn't just snag those ideas from her bc that's not really how I roll

Sometimes Beca forgets that she’s a full four years older than Emily. 

Things like that tend to get more arbitrary the farther they get from college and its age-based nonsense like grade levels, and given that they both have their fair share of mature and immature moments, there’re no glaring differences between them that would set them apart. 

But then there’re the rare occasions when the easily excitable toddler side of Emily jumps out and smacks Beca across the face. 

Like this mundane, uneventful Thursday night, when the comfortable tranquility of their apartment is broken by Emily’s palpable elation as she shuffles through the mail. It starts with a quiet but unbelievably long inhalation, slowly growing in intensity and volume to the point that Beca glances up from her phone to make sure Emily isn’t having a seizure. 

“ _No waaaaaaay!_ ” she gasps, letting out all the air she’d collected, and Beca relaxes a little. Before she can ask what kind of mail warranted that much happiness, Emily jumps up from the kitchen table and starts dancing in their tiny living space. 

Amused but concerned, Beca lets her have her moment before clearing her throat a little to make her attention known. “Uhhhhh...”

In response to the unasked question, Emily twirls over to the bed and shoves the envelope into Beca’s hands. “A wedding invitation!” she squeals, hopping straight onto Beca’s lap and causing her to yelp in surprise. 

“Oh my god, okay. Is this another Bella’s?”

“Nope! It’s my cousin Mary’s!”

The name doesn’t ring a bell, but Emily has like 500 cousins and distant relatives, so it’s only fair to forget. “Hmm which side of your family is she again?” Beca asks idly, scanning over the invitation. The venue is all the way in Delaware, but Emily doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the distance. “Is it the iffy side or the side that actually likes me?”

“Definitely the side that likes you,” Emily assures, sobering up a little. “Her mom’s my Aunt Wendy, you remember her? From the other family wedding we went to last year?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s the one who drank your uncles under the table, right? She was solid.”

“Yeah!” Regaining her energy, Emily wiggles happily. “And you know the best part? Look! It’s  _themed!_ ” Her smile is so wide and pure that Beca finds her own mouth pulling up at the corners. “It’s a  _Harry Potter_  wedding!”

“A...a  _what_  wedding?”

“A  _Harry Potter_  wedding!” Emily repeats, intonation completely unchanged despite Beca’s disbelief. 

“So...what? What does that mean? Do we go dressed in wizard robes or something?”

Emily scoffs. “ _No_ , babe. That’s just the  _theme_. The decorations and whatnot. You know, like. Wands, candles, maybe some puns off of book and movie quotes. They’re probably gonna incorporate the house colors somehow,” she rattles off, like she’s thought this out before. “Ohh the dessert bar might be snacks from Honeyduke’s! Ohh! Oh, maybe the wedding ring’ll be carried in a snitch! Kinda like the Resurrection Stone, but less depressing.”

“You’re missing me with  _so_  many of these references,” Beca laughs, entertained by the gibberish Emily’s narrating so enthusiastically. “I haven’t read the books.”

“ _What?_ You  _haven’t?_ ” 

“But I watched like, some of the movies, kind of. Jesse made me sit through the first few when we were together because he wouldn’t shut up about how great the soundtrack was, but I might’ve slept through most of it, so.” 

There’s a serious look in Emily’s eyes. “Beca. You  _can’t_  go to this wedding without knowing anything about  _Harry Potter_.”

“Jesus, Emily. It’s just a themed wedding, not a life-or-death trivia show.”

“But it won’t be the same if you don’t get any of the references! Part of the magic of  _Harry Potter_ is knowing what everything means!” She snatches the invitation out of Beca’s hand as if that would annoy her. “Isn’t that how you feel when you go to Harry Potter World at Universal?”

“I, uh. I wouldn’t know, I’ve never gone to that part of the park.”

Emily couldn’t look more offended if Beca had punched her grandmother. “This is a personal attack,” she confirms. “The universe is testing me.”

“You’re being like, just a smidge too dramatic here.”

Emily pouts and lowers her eyes, well aware that Beca hates how adorable she looks when she makes that expression and taking full advantage of it. Wavering slightly, Beca slumps her shoulders. 

“Well what’d you want me to do? Read all the books? Watch all the movies?”

Emily perks up and smiles, wordlessly expectant. 

Beca huffs out a surprised laugh. “You’re  _kidding_. This wedding is literally next month,” she says. “You want me to read the  _entire_   _Harry Potter_  series in a month?”

“Or you could just marathon the movies with me,” Emily suggests hopefully. “Might not be as detailed, but it’s quicker. But, okay, yeah,” she nods as Beca opens her mouth to complain, “you’d fall asleep.”

“I’d probably fall asleep through the books, too.”

“No! You gotta read every. Single. Word. They’re  _all_  important.”

“Wow,” she deadpans. “You’re really not selling this whole read-seven-whole-novels-in-3.5-weeks deal to...” Beca trails off when Emily leans in close, “...me.”

“Please?” she begs, lips barely brushing Beca’s, pulling back playfully when Beca automatically leans in for more. “For me?” 

They both know those two words could convince Beca to jump off a bridge, no questions asked. “Fine,” she sighs. “I’ll  _try._  No promises. God, you’re lucky I love you.”

Smiling from ear to ear, Emily relents and presses a messy, wet, happy kiss on Beca’s cheek. “I love you too. But only if you do this.”

“Oh? Only if?”

“Only if,” Emily agrees, teasing. She jumps off of Beca’s lap and practically runs across the apartment to their tiny bookshelf. “You can start now! Here’s the first book, catch!”

* * *

Beca hasn’t read for fun since like, middle school. The last book she remembers reading is  _Coraline_ , back when she was into that spooky, unsettling type of media; after that, music took over her life and books and movies were tossed to the side.

To say that the  _Harry Potter_  books completely capture Beca’s attention for the next month is a massive understatement. 

Every free moment she has, every second she’s not working, sleeping, or bathing, she has a book in hand, eyes jumping from line to line in a mad, fevered rush to know what happens next. Despite working long hours and coming home tired as crap every night, Beca manages to blow through the first three books in a week. 

Though it’d started as a reluctant attempt to placate Emily over a ridiculous wedding theme, by the time the week is over, Beca’s completely engrossed in the series. And yeah, she’s not thrilled to be investing all of her free time into a billion-dollar franchise just so she can fully enjoy her wife’s distant cousin’s wedding, but there’s no denying the satisfaction that comes with finishing so many books in such a short time. 

Then it starts dragging. The fourth book is a dictionary and the fifth is an encyclopedia — not that Beca’s seen either of those things since elementary school — and it gets harder and harder to muddle through the tedious storyline. 

By the time she finally reaches the seventh book, Emily is on edge 24/7. 

“Oh! What part are you on? What do you think about —?”

“ _No_. Don’t talk to me about any of this, you’re gonna spoil everything.”

Though she doesn’t look up from the book, Beca knows that Emily’s gaping at her with her mouth open, offended. “ _What?_  I would never!”

“Not intentionally,” she agrees absentmindedly, “but you  _suck_  at lying. You don’t even have to say anything, your face just does this...this thing where I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“No it doesn’t!”

“Okay, fine.” Beca snaps the book shut and whirls on Emily. “Who’s R. A. B.? Is Malfoy a Death Eater? Why was Dumbledore’s hand mangled at the beginning of  _Half-Blood Prince?”_  

Emily tightens her lips, shrugging with exaggeration and flair to show that she’s not about to spoil anything.

“Here’re my theories,” Beca continues. “R. A. B. is Regulus Black. Malfoy was branded as a Death Eater but isn’t considered one because he failed his mission. Dumbledore’s hand was fucked up  _not_  because he tried and failed to destroy the horcrux in the ring, but because he put it on to use whatever power that was in it for some personal gain.” She crosses her arms. “See, look. Your face gives everything away.”

Breaking her poker face after the very first guess, Emily melts out of her seriousness and smirks. “I know you’re saying all of this to prove a point, but that was...kinda hot.”

Beca bursts out laughing. “Freak.”

But despite her avid, borderline desperate reading habit, the wedding date looms relentlessly closer. It’s not like Beca’s about to skip work to finish the last book — though she’d considered it an embarrassing amount of times — and she still has to do human things like book a hotel and buy a dress. 

So she’s still not done the day before the wedding, and since she’s not about to give up after coming so far, Beca literally doesn’t stop reading from the moment she gets home from work, even through dinner, staying up until 2am to finally finish the last book. 

She wakes up the next morning physically and mentally exhausted; deviating from their original plan, she lets Emily drive them down to the venue in Delaware while she passes out for the three-hour drive.

In no time, Emily’s shaking her awake. “Hey, we’re here.” 

“No,” she moans, curling tighter into her seat. “This is my home now.”

But Emily just circles around the car to open her door and drag her out into the cold. 

“An outdoor wedding in December,” Beca grumbles as they trek through the parking lot, shivering in her bare legs. “Ridiculous.” 

“Don’t be a party pooper. It’s in there,” Emily says, gesturing to a gigantic tent that covers a good chunk of the venue’s lawn. “There’re walls and heating lamps and everything, see?”

They follow the other guests across the grassy field, the dirt cold and dry enough to support even the sharpest of heels. From the outside, the tent is almost comically unimpressive; it looks like a lumpy toasted marshmallow, and that’s exactly what Beca tells Emily. But once they step inside, Beca shuts her mouth — figuratively, at least, because she’s pretty sure her jaw drops open.

The entire ceiling of the tent is lined with strings upon strings of fairy lights that twinkle like starlight, swooping down to match the slight dip of the canvas. The theme colors are assumably white and gold, since almost every piece of decoration follows that scheme, from the table settings with its white plates and gold utensils to the poles wrapped with tiny white and gold flowers. There’s a warm, comforting feel about the setup, almost like walking into a gigantic pillow fort.

An alter is set up at the far end of the tent, faced by rows of delicate-looking chairs with high backs and embroidered seat cushions. A deep, purple carpet parts the seating area down the middle and ends at the foot of the alter platform, where an arch made of golden balloons sway gently in place where the ceremony will take place.

“Mary told me it’s supposed to be modeled after Bill and Fleur’s wedding from  _Deathly Hallows_ ,” Emily explains while they make their way through the reception area, as if Beca hadn’t finished reading the book sixteen hours ago. “I mean, obviously without the actual magical stuff.” 

“Isn’t that like, I dunno, bad luck or something?” Beca frowns. “Didn’t their wedding end in a violent ambush by Death Eaters?”

Emily turns to her, a huge smile growing on her face. “You remembered!”

“Emily, I literally just finished that book. You  _saw_  me reading it last night.” 

“Yeah, but still. You can nerd out with me now.” 

“Wasn’t that the whole point you made me suffer?” Beca mumbles.

“Shush, you didn’t suffer, you loved every second of it.”

She’s right, but Beca’s not about to admit that out loud.

* * *

 As far as weddings go, this one’s admittedly pretty cute, even by Beca’s cynical standards towards ostentatious marriage ceremonies. Maybe it’s because this one’s themed and has a sort of childish charm to it, but she feels like there’s joy to be felt at every little quote and prop, like some kind of inside joke.

And inside joke that she thankfully is now a part of.

It’s a little corny, she has to admit, but in a way that lets everyone know that these fully grown, about-to-be-married adults are comfortable enough in their maturity to host a wedding like this. Yes, it’s corny, but it’s pulled off with the grace of someone who can balance nerdiness and elegance.

It’s not like Beca’s eating it all up, especially after marathoning the entire series in a month, and whenever she’d reference something or add to an observation about the theme, Emily would squeal and flash the most blinding smile in her direction. Every single time. Without fail. While it was worth slaving over the books to fully enjoy the detail and attention that had went into these decorations, it was much more worth it to see Emily this happy.

Even the exchanging of the vows — the part of the ceremony Beca usually finds incredibly cheesy and overdone — is light, simple, happy, and heartwarming. Compared to Chloe’s long-winded, tear-soaked vows at her wedding, this couple keeps their emotions in check the whole time, which Beca honestly didn’t expect from two people nerdy enough to follow through with a whole damn  _Harry Potter_ wedding.

She peeks over at Emily to see, as she fully expected, silent tears tracking down her cheek. Rolling her eyes endearingly, Beca slips her hand into Emily’s and gives it a reassuring squeeze. She’d nabbed a napkin from a table setting for this exact reason, and Emily takes it from her with a grateful, watery smile. 

Beca doesn’t let go of her hand until the ceremony’s over and everyone’s getting up to shuffle over to the reception. 

“Ugh. That was so sweet,” Emily says, accepting another napkin from Beca. “I know we were only close as kids, but man, seeing Mary up there?  _So_  much emotions, god.”

“Oh, please. Doesn’t matter if you haven’t seen her in literal decades. You would cry at a stranger’s wedding,” Beca snorts.

Emily looks offended. “And what of it?”

“They’d be  _strangers_ , Em.”

“I can’t help it, okay? There’s something about wedding vows that just get to me,” she says, emphasizing her point by wiping at her eyes. “Even if I don’t know their lives, the vows are like a glimpse into their relationship. Memories of their past. The celebration of their present. Promises of the future. It’s so...so...” she pauses, searching for the right word.

“Beautiful?”

“Yeah.” She smiles softly at Beca. “Beautiful.” 

Her stomach flutters at Emily’s expression, at the softness of her still-watery eyes sparkling under the lights, at all of the unsaid emotions behind that one word she repeats. Maybe it’s just the wedding atmosphere, but Beca suddenly feels too warm and too weak-kneed under Emily’s attention.

She clears her throat. “Let’s. Uh. Grab some drinks.” 

They barely take ten steps towards the open bar before they’re sidetracked by one of Emily’s uncles. The conversation between them is short and mostly just for exchanging pleasantries, but then another relative gets in between them as soon as they take another step. 

That goes on for god knows how long, with the two of them just trying to get to the damn bar and yet another one of Emily’s distant cousin or aunt or second cousin fifth removed or whatever is saying hello and asking about Emily’s new job and Beca’s trip to Europe and other parts of their lives that somehow everyone knows about. 

At some point, Beca turns from a conversation to see that Emily’d disappeared. Keeping her cool because she’s an adult and isn’t at all nervous to be surrounded by strangers and loosely-acquainted in-laws, she wanders around the venue, eyes scanning the crowd, trying not to look too lost or helpless. 

She finally makes it to the bar and squints at the ornate menu of themed drinks. Beca recognizes some of the drink names from the books, but she doesn’t know which one Emily would want to try first and she kind of wants to let her choose.

“Do you have like, normal drinks?” she asks instead. 

The bartender raises an eyebrow but rattles off a list of beers and wines. He names one of Emily’s favorite whites and she orders that, getting a beer for herself. 

Drinks in hand and still unable to locate Emily, Beca heads to their table to free her hands and go search for the elusive wife. They almost crash into each other as they both squeeze through a particularly tight crowd of people.  

“Oh, hi,” Emily says. “I’m sorry I lost you, I was just gonna grab some food before they ran out of the good stuff and come back to you, but the line was so long. And then you were gone.”

Beca shrugs. “Yeah, I didn’t want to stay in one place. That’s how people get hit on.”

Emily scrunches up her nose and bites back a smile. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re clearly taken,” she says, looking pointedly at Beca’s left hand. 

Suddenly Beca’s thrown into another universe, one that’s very,  _very_  far from this place and all the carefree happiness, one where a certain someone had glimpsed her wedding ring at an occasion very similar to this one. And for one, intense second, guilt about hiding her loss of their bet burns deep in Beca’s stomach.

But then Emily’s handing her one of the plates, yanking her from her thoughts. “Here, your favorites.” There’s a fist-sized mound of mac ‘n’ cheese, a juicy-looking strip of steak, mashed potatoes drenched in gravy, and not a vegetable in sight. Perfect.

“Sweet. This is your favorite, let’s trade.” Beca frees Emily’s hand of her plate so she can take the glass of wine. 

“Oh, you didn’t get one of those special cocktails?”

“I figured you’d want to pick your own.”

Emily beams. “Okay, let’s do that after we eat.”

Starving and drained from family interactions, Beca doesn’t need to be told twice to eat. They scarf down the food, get up for seconds, grab a couple of novelty cocktails, and pick at dessert before the speeches and toasts start and Emily’s choking back tears again.

Stuffed and a little buzzed, Beca zones out during the speeches this time, mind lazily drifting towards the ridiculousness of all these traditions, these formulas that all weddings seem to follow. 

Their courthouse wedding was nothing like this. 

She glances over at Emily, who’s laughing at something the Maid of Honor said, eyes crinkling adorably at the corners. Crying during the ceremony, mingling with family, enjoying every second of this event...Emily is the type of person to fit perfectly into a wedding. 

Eloping doesn’t seem to match her style.

Beca watches the Maid of Honor pass the mic to the Best Man, idly imagining what her own wedding would’ve looked like. Who would’ve been their Maid of Honor? Their Best Man? Who would they have invited? Where? When? 

And she thinks about the secrecy, about the bet, about hiding this from the Bellas in good fun and friendly competition. She thinks about how none of them know, not just because both Beca and Emily were dumb and forgot to tell them, but also because they’re now willingly keeping it from them. She thinks about how Emily could’ve been one of those girls who fantasized about their wedding and how Beca could’ve let down every single one of those dreams. 

“Alllll right, now it’s time for everyone to get on the dance floor!”

The DJ’s booming voice cuts through her thoughts; she’d spaced out through the entirety of the bride and groom’s first dance. “Come on!” Emily’s saying, but Beca waves her away with a smile, making up excuses that she’s too full to move right now. Pouting but being dragged towards the dancing crowd by some of her younger cousins, Emily lets Beca be with the promise that she’ll be back for her later. 

Beca lets her go because now all of this is  _bothering_  her.

She watches Emily dancing, surrounded by family young and old, having the time of her life. For a second she imagines a different scene, Emily in a white dress, surrounded by the Bellas — both from Beca’s grade and Emily’s — dancing and singing at the top of their lungs. 

She thinks back to their actual wedding, the chilly room in City Hall, their sentimental but short ceremony, the quiet lunch they had with their parents afterwards. Beca might find the traditions and formulas of weddings to be ridiculous, but that doesn’t mean she’s against them. And suddenly she doesn’t know if Emily’s been holding back on asking for an actual wedding for her sake.

Did she just agree to elope because she assumed Beca wouldn’t want to suffer through a whole wedding with friends and family crowding her? Or was she just being her usual go-with-the-flow self? Both? Neither?

She doesn’t even notice that she’s been staring at her empty beer bottle, until Emily pops out from the dancing mob and confronts her. “Come on, you bum. We all  _know_  you can dance,” she says breathlessly, tugging at Beca’s hand until she relents and joins Emily on the dance floor. 

There’s no changing what’s done. There’s no point worrying about a marriage that already happened. Emily turns to look back at her, all smiles and sunshine in her eyes, and Beca lets the thought fade into the background.

* * *

 “Hey, let’s go outside for a bit.”

It’s fully nighttime now and they’re about to start serving the cake when Emily brings up the ludicrous suggestion. “It’s getting kinda stuffy in here,” she explains, pulling their coats off their chairs.

“But it’s sub-zero temps out there,” Beca counters, but Emily’s already leading the way towards the entrance, so she follows reluctantly. 

Whether it’s from the warmth of the tent or the alcohol or global warming, it’s actually not too cold outside. They wander across the spacious lawn and towards a small garden with a decorative iron arch, undoubtedly another option for an alter during the warmer season. 

“Any reason for the winter stroll? And for freezing our butts off?” Beca asks as they settle down on a bench, still within view of the tent but far enough that the conversations and music were unintelligible.

“You’ve been pretty quiet,” Emily shrugs. “I figured you were either tired or getting sick of all the nerd-talk, but I thought some fresh air might help either way.”

Beca doesn’t have a response to that; she’d tried her best to push the invasive thoughts from her mind, to act normal, but Emily was still able to pick up on her subdued mood. That shouldn’t surprise her in the least, but she still feels bad for making her worry.

“And, uh. If anything’s bothering you...” Emily continues hesitantly. “I mean. You don’t have to, obviously. But you can talk to me if you want to.” She takes Beca’s hand and threads their fingers together. “We can also just go to our hotel. Call it a night.”

“No,” Beca says quickly. “No, that’s not...sorry, now I’m just being weird.” 

“You’re not being weird at all.” Emily’s tone is infinitely patient and Beca suddenly doesn’t know why she’s even trying to keep this all to herself.

“It’s just...today’s been fun. A  _lot_ of fun. And I was kinda just watching you soak it in and really enjoy everything, and I just couldn’t stop thinking...” Beca hesitates. “Did you...want something like this? For our wedding? You know, like a white dress, a reception, a first dance...The whole nine yards.”

Emily’s silent for a second, considering the question thoughtfully. “I didn’t  _not_  want it,” she says carefully. “But I didn’t mind not having it.” 

Which is exactly what Beca had assumed. 

“Sometimes I feel like I rushed you into eloping,” she admits. “That I convinced you to do something that doesn’t fit who you are.”

“Beca, we talked about this,” Emily says, smiling reassuringly. “You didn’t force me to do anything I didn’t want to, kay? I don’t need a fancy venue and 200 people watching our first dance to know that I want you in my life forever.”

She says it so easily that Beca almost misses it; the way Emily casually drops emotional bombs like this makes Beca’s stomach bottom out. “I guess. I dunno. I just...I feel like you deserve a wedding like this,” she stumbles. “And I feel like that opportunity’s gone now.”

Emily hums. “Well, not gone. We could still do something. Just a party, I guess,” she elaborates. “Doesn’t really  _have_  to be about our marriage, just like. A super late reception shebang.”

“Shebang?”

“Shebang.”

Beca huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. We can.” 

Emily’s face brightens. “Really? You wouldn’t hate it?”

“I mean, yeah, I probably will,” Beca shrugs. “But like, not for real. You know me.”

“Yeah,” Emily smiles, teeth flashing, and Beca’s stomach swoops again. “I do.” 

“But that means our bet would be null. They’ll know and it wouldn’t be...” she kicks down her guilt and stuffs it into a tiny box in her mind “...either of our losses.”

“Yeah, well. I’ll get you to write me a song one day, Beca Mitchell. Mark my words.”

“All right, dramatic. In the mean time I’ll just chop off your hair in your sleep.”

Emily shoves at Beca’s shoulder. “Don’t even joke like that.”

“Emily!” 

A tiny voice suddenly cuts through the otherwise quiet night air. They look up to see one of Emily’s younger cousins running towards them from the tent. Beca recognizes her as one of the kids who loves Emily to bits — which is like, incredibly relatable — but can’t for the life of her remember this rambunctious child’s name. 

She doesn’t stop running until she tackles Emily in a hug. “What’re you doing out here? Where’s your coat?” Emily scolds playfully. “You’re gonna catch a cold!”

“Nooo I’m not! I’m not even cold, I’m  _sweating_ , see!” 

“That’s even worse!”

“You gotta come inside! They have  _cake_  and we gotta keep  _dancing_.” 

Emily looks back at Beca, exaggerated exasperation clear on her face. “Can you believe this one, Beca? We danced for like,  _hours_  together and she  _still_ wants more!”

“We didn’t dance for hours,” the girl says defensively. “That was like, ten minutes.”

“Oh? All of that was just ten minutes?”

“Yeah, like. Five minutes.”

“You know what? I think you’re lying.”

“Am not!”

“Beca, don’t you think she’s lying?”

She blinks. “Uhhh...”

“See, there you have it. Beca thinks you’re lying too. You know what that means?” Emily suddenly shoots up from her seat, snatching the girl up into the air, and throws her over her shoulder. “I’m gonna throw you in the lake! That’s where all the liars go!”

“Noooo!”

Beca sits back, amused, as Emily pretends to march the girl towards the lake on the opposite end of the venue property, their laughter echoing into the night. She’s perfect in every sense of the word, from her unending supply of happiness and joy to her unspoken mission to spread that happiness and joy,  always doing things for others to make sure they’re on her level. 

Assuring Beca that an extravagant wedding isn’t necessary for a happy marriage. Pulling her out of a fun party because she looked lost in her thoughts. Getting her a plate of her favorite foods before they ran out. Making her read an entire 7-book series just so she could understand all the references.

Jumping up and down and dancing in their apartment over a wedding invitation.

And it’s not really a revelation or sudden epiphany, but Beca can’t help but to shake her head slowly as she watches Emily swing the child around, both of them giggling uncontrollably. 

Unbelievable. 

She’s  _married_  to this absolute gem of a human. 

That’s her  _wife_.

Emily eventually jogs back to the bench, occasionally glancing back to make sure the girl is continuing her sprint back into the tent. “Sorry, sometimes you just gotta toss them around so they’ll leave you alone,” she says breathlessly, a smile still lingering. It falters a little when she looks at Beca. “Hey...are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not until Emily kneels in front of her and brushes a thumb under her eye that Beca realizes that she’s crying. 

"Shit. Sorry, wow. I didn’t mean to — uh.” Feeling stupid, Beca rubs angrily at her eyes. “I just, um...” 

She swallows down the lump in her throat, unsure of how to explain the intense swell of emotion that’d just hit her like a speeding semi. Coming up short on anything that could remotely encapsulate what she feels for Emily, she just settles on three simple words. 

“I love you.”

Emily tilts her head a little, surprised. “Oh. I love you too,” she giggles. She gently pulls Beca to her feet and wraps her up in a hug. “You don’t have to cry about it, jeez.”

Beca chokes out a laugh and squeezes back tighter. 

They stay that way for a while, safe in each others arms, legs freezing in the icy air, until Emily quietly suggests they head back inside so they don’t die of hypothermia. Ironically, Emily’s hand is warm in Beca’s, and she smiles to herself as they make their way back to the tent, thumb tracing over Emily’s wedding band and feeling unexpected excitement at the prospect of hosting a party to celebrate their marriage. 

**Author's Note:**

> title song: Can't See Straight - Jamie Lawson
> 
> y'all need to go listen to this song I can't with the lyrics...like this man managed to fit in words like "palpitations" and "reciprocating" and "discombobulation" and made it WORK and sound CUTE AS F
> 
> anyway beep me at http://moxiemorton.tumblr.com/


End file.
